“You would permit it, yes?”

“My dear fellow, delighted to have you. Don’t know enough yet to decide whether it’s a case for Scotland Yard or not. Offhand it looks as though our murderer must be pretty well within a limited radius. On the other hand, all these people are strangers down here. To find out about them and their motives you’ve got to go to London.”

Poirot said:

“Yes, that is true.”

“First of all,” said Weston, “we’ve got to find out who last saw the dead woman alive. Chambermaid took her her breakfast at nine. Girl in the bureau downstairs saw her pass through the lounge and go out about ten.”

“My friend,” said Poirot, “I suspect that I am the man you want.”

“You saw her this morning? What time?”

“At five minutes past ten. I assisted her to launch her float from the bathing beach.”

“And she went off on it?”

“Yes.”

“Alone?”

“Yes.”

“Did you see which direction she took?”

“She paddled round that point there to the right.”

“In the direction of Pixy’s Cove, that is?”

“Yes.”

“And the time then was—?”

“I should say she actually left the beach at a quarter past ten.”

Weston considered.

“That fits in well enough. How long should you say that it would take her to paddle round to the Cove?”

“Ah me, I am not an expert. I do not go in boats or expose myself on floats. Perhaps half an hour?”

“That’s about what I think,” said the Colonel. “She wouldn’t be hurrying, I presume. Well, if she arrived there at a quarter to eleven, that fits in well enough.”

“At what time does your doctor suggest she died?”

“Oh, Neasden doesn’t commit himself. He’s a cautious chap. A quarter to eleven is his earliest outside limit.”

Poirot nodded. He said:

“There is one other point that I must mention. As she left, Mrs. Marshall asked me not to say I had seen her.”

Weston stared.

He said:

“H’m, that’s rather suggestive, isn’t it?”

Poirot murmured.

“Yes. I thought so myself.”

Weston tugged at his moustache. He said:

“Look here, Poirot. You’re a man of the world. What sort of a woman was Mrs. Marshall?”

A faint smile came to Poirot’s lips.

He asked:

“Have you not already heard?”

The Chief Constable said dryly:

“I know what the women say of her. They would. How much truth is there in it? Was she having an affair with this fellow Redfern?”

“I should say undoubtedly yes.”

“He followed her down here, eh?”

“There is reason to suppose so.”

“And the husband? Did he know about it? What did he feel?”

Poirot said slowly:

“It is not easy to know what Captain Marshall feels or thinks. He is a man who does not display his emotions.”

Weston said sharply:

“But he might have ’em, all the same.”

Poirot nodded. He said:

“Oh yes, he might have them.”

III

The Chief Constable was being as tactful as it was in his nature to be with Mrs. Castle.